


touch the stars

by dawnshine



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bickering, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Vulnerability, gratuitous use of space metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnshine/pseuds/dawnshine
Summary: Jisung realizes that maybe Minho isn’t as far from reach as the stars in his eyes, maybe not as mysterious and incomprehensible as the expanse of sky above them.or: Jisung and Minho share a bed, and Minho struggles with vulnerability.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 56
Kudos: 486





	touch the stars

**Author's Note:**

> if you like bts i have a mini playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/49WY2BMnPcczNdkgj5IEF5?si=stoOZAqiQ-CuQN4PBVbmdw) for the Vibes

Jisung loves the night.

He’d be nocturnal if only life allowed for it, blissfully unconscious when the world is at its busiest and living comfortably in the dark of night, alone with the moon and his thoughts. 

He loves to gaze up at the moon, at the stars, wondering just what could be out there even if the thought makes him feel almost unbearably small, a mere speck of stardust in a vast, unknown galaxy. 

He loves the peace that can be found in the warmer months, in the soothing sounds of distant frogs and crickets when he’s not too deep in the city, loves the serene quiet in the middle of a winter night with a soft blanket of snow, when everything is asleep and it’s just him.

There are times when the night does not seem so forgiving, though. Like when Jisung is walking alone down an empty street, streetlights flickering and dark, foreboding alleyways looming around every corner, or when he’s taking out the garbage, jumping out of his skin at every little noise. 

Or when Jisung lets his pride get the better of him and watches a horror movie with his roommate to prove some kind of point, maybe have an excuse to cling to the older boy, and _maybe_ even get some cuddles in the process.

 _Stupid,_ he thinks as he lies awake on his bed, eyes wide open and hands clinging to his plush pig for dear life. He doesn’t dare to close his eyes longer than a second or even turn off his bedside lamp, not wanting to make himself vulnerable to any demons or spirits that might, for whatever reason, be haunting the small dorm he’s shared with his best friend Minho for the past two years.

 _Minho._ This is all his fault.

Stupid Minho and his stupid crooked smirk when he had called Jisung a scaredy-cat for not wanting to sit through approximately 90 minutes of sporadic jumpscares and nightmare fuel. Stupid Minho giggling every time Jisung jumped even though the movie made _him_ jump just as much. Minho scooting closer and sharing his blanket. Minho’s arm around him after Jisung had gotten so scared he started trembling. Minho wrapped around him safely, calming his nerves, tranquil and warm like a quiet summer night… 

Jisung’s eyelids begin to droop, muscles relaxing as he immerses himself in thoughts of being in Minho’s embrace, having his hair stroked. He even indulges in fantasies of Minho’s lips pressing gentle kisses on his skin. He feels like he’s floating, slowly slipping away, until―

_“Ugh!”_

Jisung jolts awake so violently that he nearly lurches off the edge of his bed and into the jaws of whatever might be lurking underneath.

“What the hell?” Jisung demands, disgruntled (and maybe a little flustered) at having possibly his only chance at sleep _and_ the beginnings of a wonderful dream interrupted. On the bed across the room, at the other end of his glare, Minho rubs his eyes in frustration. His hair is sticking up in odd places from tossing and turning, and if Jisung hadn’t just had his sleep interrupted, he would’ve cooed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t sleep with that light on,” he says, voice heavy with weariness. “It’s driving me insane.”

“Have you tried closing your eyes?”

Minho gives him a look showing that he has, in fact, tried that, and that something will be thrown at Jisung if he sasses him again.

“Sorry,” Jisung mumbles. “D-Do you think you could wait until I fall asleep, or…”

Minho’s expression softens as he gives Jisung an apologetic look. “I have to be up at like, six. And I don’t think you’re falling asleep anytime soon.”

“Well, I was just about to be when you yelled!” Jisung huffs. Minho buries his face in his pillow and groans. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m really freaked out, okay? You’re the one who wanted your poor little weak-hearted roommate to watch the movie with you _so_ badly.”

“I regret it, believe me,” comes Minho’s muffled voice. Then he raises his head and gives Jisung a smirk. “You didn’t _have_ to. It’s not _my_ fault my poor little Jisungie is a sucker for my cuddles.”

Jisung can’t argue with that. Rather, he could, but it wouldn’t be a very good argument, and he’s liable to be blushing and stuttering all the while (special thanks to the “my” Minho tacked on Jisung’s name), so he clamps his mouth shut.

He recalls how safe Minho had made him feel, how his fears washed away in his arms, how the thought alone nearly lulled him to sleep, and he gets an idea. Whether it’s a bad one or a good one, that’s for him to decide and deal with the consequences of later, when it isn’t well past midnight.

“You know,” Jisung starts, grinning, “you’re right. Such a sucker, in fact, that I might be able to survive without the light in exchange for some.”

“Right now?” Minho glances at the clock as if Jisung were expecting him to trudge back to the couch and huddle up.

“I-I mean, like, um,” Jisung stumbles over his words, wondering if the suggestion is perhaps a terrible idea and Minho will shoot him down and leave him to his fear in the dark. “I’m not trying to keep you up or anything, I was just thinking I could…”

Minho’s eyes widen in realization. “Oh.” He blinks at Jisung once, twice, and then he’s shifting towards the wall and holding the blanket open, his look of surprise replaced with a lazy grin. “If it’ll get you to turn that damn light off, sure.”

Jisung tries, and probably fails, to not appear too giddy as he clicks the lamp off and practically skips across the floor without hesitation, plush in hand and the demon under his bed forgotten. He trips right into Minho’s bed, eyes not adjusted to the darkness just yet. He blushes when Minho’s arms catch and steady him, mumbling an apology as he slides under the covers with his back facing Minho.

“That desperate, huh?” Minho teases, making Jisung melt on the spot when Minho’s arm drapes over him and pulls him closer.

“Yep,” Jisung says, unashamed, and sighs in content as he snuggles up against Minho’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Mm, well,” Minho yawns, “don’t thank me yet. Just remember you wanted this.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow. While cuddling is nothing new for the pair, and they’d even fallen asleep doing it on the couch once or twice or a dozen times, they’ve never actually slept together overnight. Jisung learned the hard way that Minho is prone to talking and even occasionally screaming in his sleep _(please,_ not tonight, he prays), but other than that he hasn’t seen any of his sleeping habits in action. 

“What, are you a blanket hog or something?”

“Worse,” Minho says, ominous. His mouth is too close to Jisung’s ear, but it’s okay. “They say I turn into a koala under the full moon. I’ll latch onto you and squeeze you to death.”

Jisung figures that’s probably the best way to go, but he doesn’t voice the thought. 

“What the hell?” he laughs, puzzled as he turns over to face Minho, too close―but again, it’s okay. “It’s not even a full moon.”

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Of course you would know that,” he mumbles. “Nerd.”

“Hey!” Jisung kicks him lightly under the covers. “Not my fault you don’t appreciate the sky enough.”

Minho kicks him back before his face morphs into something that activates Jisung’s fight or flight response.

“Why would I look at the sky,” he says with a dramatic lilt to his voice, reaching to brush a strand of hair out of Jisung’s face, “when all the stars are in your eyes?”

Jisung stares back, unblinking, breath held stagnant in his lungs. He resents the fluttering of his stomach and the tingling of his skin at the touch. Minho’s lips purse in a familiar attempt to hold back his laughter before a giggle spills past his lips.

And when it does, his eyes crinkle into the shape of the crescent moon, and Jisung thinks he’s sorely mistaken. The stars find their home in Minho’s eyes, not his, a myriad of shimmering galaxies Jisung can’t begin to chart, but he’d give anything to try.

“Y-Yeah, well,” Jisung manages past the lump in his throat, “what’s gonna happen to you if an asteroid hits, huh? Or when aliens come? You won’t be prepared at all.”

 _“When_ aliens come?” Minho repeats, amused smile painfully soft in the darkness as he hums. “I guess I’ll be thankful I have you by my side to warn me.”

“And when I don’t?”

“You will,” Minho says simply, as if he were discussing tomorrow’s forecast and not a purely hypothetical alien-related scenario, conviction in his sleepy voice as his eyes fall shut. “You couldn’t survive without me. You love me.”

Jisung’s silly little heart stutters.

He knows by now that Minho loses a bit of his edge in the dead of night, when he’s so weary that his words become as tender as his voice, affections sleepily muttered under the moonlight filtering through the cracks of their dusty blinds.

Jisung also knows too well the ever-present playful cadence to Minho’s voice that accompanies his honeyed words, the unreadable expressions and mixed signals that have effectively planted and nurtured seeds of uncertainty in the garden of Jisung’s soul. He’s well-acquainted with the wall that encompasses Minho’s; he’s memorized all of its cracks.

He wants, at least once, to challenge Minho’s flippancy, present him with a question he can’t deflect with a sly smile and wink of his eye. He wants to scale the walls Minho has built and steal flowers from his garden, make them part of his own. He wants Minho, real and genuine and out in the open, in the sun, unguarded for once in the light of day instead of only shining in the darkness of night.

“Yeah, right,” Jisung scoffs, instead of saying something he might live to regret. “I’d let your ass get abducted.” 

Minho gasps in offense. “You wouldn’t.”

“You know what? I’d lead them straight to you. Communicate with crop circles or something.”

“You’re so cruel,” Minho laughs softly.

“You love me,” Jisung repeats, sticking his tongue out.

A beat passes, and suddenly Jisung’s hand resting beside him on the sheets is covered with a gentle warmth. “Jisung…”

Jisung strains to see Minho’s face in the darkness. He swallows and hopes it isn’t too loud.

“Yeah?”

“Please get abducted with me. With the two of us together, they would send us back so fast.”

He pushes down the pang of disappointment, unsure why he expected anything different from Minho, but laughs at the notion all the same.

“You don’t need me,” he says. “I think you’re awful enough to get sent back on your own.”

“I do need you,” Minho whines. It’s almost cruel.

“What for, a distraction?” Jisung asks, interlacing his fingers with the hand that still rests on his since it makes no move to pull away. “You want me to be a little alien jester so you can escape?”

“I was thinking more along the general lines of ‘we’re inseparable soulmates’ or something,” Minho says, “but that’s a good idea, now that you mention it.”

Jisung almost wishes he were back in his own bed, blissfully asleep, having never watched that damned movie instead of lying next to Minho and having heart palpitations every time he spoke.

But if Minho is going to keep shining light through the cracks in his walls, Jisung figures it’s an opportunity he can’t pass up.

“Do you mean that?” slips past Jisung’s lips before he can doubt himself. The smile slowly fades from Minho’s face to be replaced by confusion.

“The alien jester thing?”

Jisung’s fingers twitch against his.

“Nothing, never mind,” he whispers, closing his eyes and praying that Minho will let the moment drift off, forgotten in the void of night like he always does. This time, he doesn’t.

“Jisung?” Minho prompts softly, moments later. He squeezes his hand, and Jisung opens his eyes. Minho’s lips part before closing again, his gaze searching Jisung’s face in the dark.

Jisung lets out a shaky breath. “I know we call each other soulmates and say stuff like that all the time, but do you…” He wets his lips, heart hammering in his chest. “Do you mean it?”

Minho’s eyes widen a fraction, capturing that much more of the slivers of moonlight hanging in the room and gleaming back at Jisung.

“Of course,” he says, eyebrows drawn together with concern. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just…” Jisung shifts, uneasy, but his hand remains clasped in Minho’s. He huffs out a nervous laugh. “I never know when you’re joking around or being genuine.”

“Oh,” Minho breathes, then chuckles humorlessly. “Sorry. I, um… I’m really bad with… words.”

“You’re not,” Jisung quickly assures. Then he adds, mumbling shyly, “You’re really good with them. You always know what to say to make me feel better, even if I don’t mention that I feel like shit.”

“That’s good,” Minho says quietly. “I guess I’ve gotten good at figuring out when you need a distraction and providing it. Like right now.”

He smiles, and Jisung really thinks about the movie and the subsequent fear it gave him for the first time since slipping under Minho’s covers.

“That’s true.” Jisung smiles gratefully. “Even though we wouldn’t _be_ in this position if you didn’t wanna watch a horror movie at 11pm,” he says under his breath.

“As if you aren’t having the time of your life forcing me to be vulnerable and shit,” Minho scoffs.

“We all need to be vulnerable sometimes,” Jisung says softly, bringing their hands to his face and tucking them under his cheek, Minho’s hand soft against his skin. 

Minho hums, watching the motion carefully, and Jisung wants so badly to brush his lips against Minho’s knuckles, so he does. Minho’s eyes linger just a moment too long on Jisung’s lips.

He offers a cheeky grin afterwards, lest the gesture appear too intimate and betray his feelings.

Maybe he’s a hypocrite.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that,” Minho adds quietly, suddenly, and his eyes are alight with so much sincerity despite not being able to hold Jisung’s gaze. If anything, his shyness is a testament to the truth in his words, tentative and hesitant in the light of being fragile and open.

“But I can’t, um…” he continues shakily, eyes trained on their entwined hands. Jisung gives him a gentle, supportive squeeze. “I’m bad at expressing, uh… It―It makes me… It’s… it’s just sc―ah, it’s so dumb.” He turns and half-buries his face in his pillow.

“It’s not dumb,” Jisung says gently, but firmly. “It’s what you feel. It’s not dumb.”

Minho gives a halfhearted smile that makes Jisung’s chest ache. Is he pushing too hard? He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Minho look so hesitant, so unsure, so _scared._

Still, Minho seems to have more to say―and if the wall is starting to come down, even a bit, the last thing Jisung wants is to stop it―so he watches quietly as it crumbles.

“I guess what I want to say is, um…” Minho pauses to think, bites his lip. His eyes flicker up and he looks so deeply into Jisung’s eyes that Jisung is sure his soul is laid out bare before him. “Don’t… don’t doubt what you mean to me just because I suck at expressing feelings.”

“You’re doing pretty great right now,” Jisung says earnestly, beaming and running a soothing thumb over the back of his hand. It’s his turn to hesitate as he chews his lip and considers for only a brief moment before the next words leave his mouth. 

“What _do_ I mean to you?”

And maybe it’s too much at once, he can’t help but worry after the damage is done.

He braces himself for a scoff, maybe to be told “nothing” or “it’s too late for this” or to be playfully shoved away or off of the bed or something equally typical of Minho. Instead he’s met with silence and a stare that makes his head spin, the galaxy in Minho’s eyes vast and beautiful and daunting.

“I…”

Jisung doesn’t know where this is going, what Minho is thinking. He never does. 

He knows not to get his hopes up when it comes to getting inside Minho’s head, trying to make sense of it all. It’s like looking up at the clear night sky and trying to fathom just how massive and intricate it all is when you’re nothing but a tiny, ignorant speck floating lost through an endless cosmos.

Still.

There’s something Minho wants to say, something real and genuine and Jisung knows not to get his hopes up, he _knows,_ but there’s an unspoken admission on Minho’s tongue and he knows he would do anything to hear it.

Minho’s free hand slips from under his pillow, joining the other as he gingerly lifts the younger’s hand and pulls it towards himself. Jisung barely registers that the hands holding his are trembling.

Minho guides Jisung by the wrist to rest his hand splayed flat on Minho’s chest, over his heart. His eyes are trained on Jisung’s, gaze unwavering as the frantic pounding of his heart reverberates through the palm of Jisung’s hand and explodes within him like a supernova.

Jisung’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes.

He realizes that maybe Minho isn’t as far from reach as the stars in his eyes, maybe not as mysterious and incomprehensible as the expanse of sky above them.

His own pulse assumes a rapid pace that rivals Minho’s as he feels the heart on his sleeve, the silent but tangible promise of feelings that perhaps don’t have to be put into words.

Warmth blooms within Jisung and across his cheeks as he inches closer and leads Minho’s hand to his own chest, heart drumming similarly against his ribcage and against the gentle press of Minho’s hand. He exhales an incredulous laugh when Minho’s eyes widen and dart between his hand and Jisung’s face.

 _Is it really a surprise,_ he wonders, _for either of us?_

Had he felt as far from reach to Minho as Minho had to him?

Maybe, all this time, he could have touched the stars. All he had to do was _jump._

Minho’s hand timidly caresses Jisung’s cheek, lips parting hesitantly like he has something to say but doesn’t know how. It’s okay, because now Jisung knows. The formalities can wait.

For now, Jisung props himself up on his elbow and leans forward, Minho watching with bated breath as he leans in slow, painfully so, slow enough to give Minho ample time to move away or shove a pillow in his face before Jisung has a chance to taste him―

Minho doesn’t. 

Instead, he grows impatient, craning his neck to meet Jisung halfway, their lips colliding gently, soft like the moonlight through the blinds, warm like Minho’s bed, fitting together perfectly like puzzle pieces, like cheesecake and americano, like Minho and Jisung.

Jisung begins to pull away but Minho’s hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him back down so he goes happily, a small noise of surprise escaping him when Minho kisses him with more fervor, still tentative but passionate.

“Is this okay?” he whispers against Jisung’s lips, and Jisung thinks he could cry from the concern in his voice alone.

“I’m the one who kissed you,” he notes, just to be a little shit. “Of course it’s okay.” He leans in for another kiss, but Minho pulls away to give him a doubtful look. 

“I closed the gap.”

Jisung gapes. “Are we really going to argue about this?” he huffs. “Also, you couldn’t have closed the gap if _I_ didn’t lean in.”

“You wouldn’t have leaned in if I didn’t expose my heart rate.”

“Your heart wouldn’t have been beating fast if I didn’t get in your bed.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten in my bed if I didn’t make you turn your light off.”

“You wouldn’t have made me turn my light off if I didn’t… have my light on.”

“You wouldn’t have had your light on if I didn’t make you watch a scary movie,” Minho finishes quickly, grinning in triumph. “Ha! I win.”

“God, I don’t even wanna kiss you anymore,” Jisung grumbles, flopping back down onto the pillow and rolling over to hide his smile.

“No, wait,” Minho whines, shaking his shoulder. “I’ll share my victory with you. It’s a tie.”

“Don’t you have to be up early?” Jisung teases. He rolls his eyes but turns over to face him again anyway.

“Time isn’t real, Jisung,” he mocks a phrase Jisung often uses in retaliation to being told to go to bed.

“Oh, but it was real when―” 

Minho shushes him with a finger on his lips and then he’s propped on his elbow, hovering over Jisung with a soft smile.

 _Oh,_ Jisung thinks, startled. He had gotten so caught up in the usual bickering he nearly forgot they’re on _kissing terms_ now. 

Minho likes him. _Minho likes him._ Minho kissed him, and wants to kiss him again. He smiles at the thought, wrapping his arms around Minho’s neck and pulling him down to feel him smile against his lips again.

“I like you.” Minho rests his forehead against Jisung’s. “I like you so much.”

Jisung’s grin is so wide that his cheeks start to hurt. “Yeah?”

Jisung knows. It’s obvious now, of course, more than ever, but looking back he thinks he always knew, at least a little. 

It was the gazes that lingered just a moment too long. It was taking every chance he got to touch him. It was the set of his jaw and the strained well wishes on the rare occasion Jisung landed a date with someone in an attempt to distract from his own feelings.

It was the extra care that showed in subtle ways, like tucking Jisung in when he dozed off, grabbing him a slice of cheesecake because it was “on the way” even though the cheesecake Jisung liked wasn’t on his route at all, picking up on Jisung’s moods and always cheering him up or giving him space when needed.

It’s like seeing in the dark, the object before him palpable and real, but unable to be seen clearly until his eyes adjust.

And Jisung’s pupils are blown wide, greedily taking in the sight.

“How much?” he asks. “More than scary movies?”

“Definitely,” Minho says.

“More than iced americanos?”

“Yep.”

“More than sleep?”

“Apparently so.”

“More than your cats?”

“Now you’re pushing it,” Minho warns.

Jisung laughs. He’d expect no less. “I like you too, by the way,” he smiles. “So much.”

Minho’s eyes are crescent moons again as he runs a thumb along Jisung’s cheek. “How much?” he asks.

“To the moon and back.”

“Wow,” Minho exhales. “I can’t beat that.”

“You could say to the sun,” Jisung points out, and something about the way Minho’s lips twitch tells him he’s playing right into his hands.

“But you’re right here,” Minho says, face breaking out into a goofy grin.

Jisung wants to groan at how cheesy it is, cry at how happy he is, and pull Minho into another kiss for how stupidly cute he is all at once, but all he manages to do is cover his face in embarrassment and make a strangled noise.

“Where’d my sunshine go?” Minho gasps, his fingers trailing down to Jisung’s sides where he tickles him mercilessly. Jisung flails about with a squeal, hands flying down to grab Minho’s wrists. Minho laughs, giving up without much of a fight and diving back down to give Jisung another kiss that lands mostly on his teeth.

“You’re a menace,” Jisung declares before kissing him properly.

When Jisung decides he’s safe enough to release Minho’s wrists, he reaches up and runs gentle fingers through Jisung’s hair, expression suddenly sober and contemplative.

“Actually, Jisung, I… I’m kind of in love with you.”

Jisung would think his heart should be tired by now, unable to continue beating so fast, but there it goes again.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho says quickly. “I just… I want to work on being, um… You deserve someone who… you know.” He groans, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His breath sends chills down Jisung’s spine. “Sorry. I don’t know why this is so hard.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung soothes, turning to press a kiss into his hair. “I think I understand.”

“I just…” Minho lifts his head, pouting as his eyes roam over Jisung’s face. “I wish I could tell you how much I mean it.”

“Minho, this is enough. You’re enough, okay?” He cradles Minho’s face in his hands, an absurd amount of fondness swelling in his chest. “We’ll work on it. Together.”

“Okay,” Minho whispers, his hands coming to rest over Jisung’s.

“But… actions speak louder than words, you know,” Jisung says matter-of-factly. “So for now, why don’t you just show me?”

“That I can do,” Minho giggles, ducking down to kiss both of Jisung’s cheeks, the mole that resides there, his forehead, the tip of his nose. 

Jisung closes his eyes in bliss, soaking up the attention until Minho’s lips are finally planted on his own again, the room and his mind utterly silent save for the soft sounds between them.

“Minho?” Jisung breathes.

“Hm?”

“I’m kind of in love with you, too.”

Minho’s eyes shimmer with the light of a thousand stars when he smiles at Jisung, and Jisung realizes that maybe Minho is his night, his peace, his soothing quiet, his solace where the rest of the world falls away and it’s just _them._

Jisung smiles, too, as he finds another reason to love the night.

  
  


✩ ✩ ✩

**Author's Note:**

> when u wanna write fluff and cuddles and it turns into fluff and cuddles with a dash of minho sucking at verbally expressing his feelings (mood) and me trying to wax space poetics <3  
> also fyi they buy each other cute sun/moon themed accessories after this like it's their job
> 
> thank u for reading~  
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/mewnsung) ♡


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